


You Deserve The Stars In My Crown

by the10amongstthese3s



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Anne is the sweetest, Fluff, Jane is a Facebook mum and you can't convince me otherwise, One Shot, Parr may be a nerd but she DESERVES THE WORLD, parrlyn, the queens are the sweetest family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22249813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the10amongstthese3s/pseuds/the10amongstthese3s
Summary: When the Queens' all band together to buy Catherine Parr a laptop, it doesn't take long for Anne Boleyn to notice that something is wrong. Of course, she makes it her mission to set it right.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 199





	You Deserve The Stars In My Crown

Remember that I was a writer.

That’s what Catherine Parr said in the show. She wrote books, and psalms, and meditations. 

It was true; Parr absolutely loved to write. Night after night, hour after hour, you could hear the scratching of a pen scribbling against paper coming from the woman’s study. Passion flowed through the ink, staining the pages until they transformed into the shape of a story. One notebook filled, then another, and another. There seemed to be a never-ending surplus of words rushing about in her mind 24/7 that just had to be transcribed to paper.

In the 21st century though, a pen and paper isn’t the best method for writing if you wish to one day publish your works. Technology had made everything so much easier. Spell check, a delete button, the internet. It was heaven for most writers.

That’s why, after a short discussion in the kitchen one night, the queens decided to all come together to treat Parr to a new laptop.

It wasn’t anything fancy. Just some relatively cheap 13” laptop that Cleves had heard good things about. A Dell? Jane, of course, had no idea what that meant. At first, she thought they were purchasing the singer, Adele. Though four hundred pounds did seem rather cheap for a Grammy winner, she had to admit.

The whole ‘spontaneous gift’ situation made Parr rather nervous but still, she feigned excitement, smiling as she opened the package. At first, the woman was struck with confusion as she pulled the laptop from the box. Surely Anne or Kit should be the ones getting laptops? They were the social media addicts of the group, after all. 

It all clicked into place when Kit spoke up though, giving a shy smile.

“Do you like it? We thought maybe it would make your writing easier and stuff. I picked the blue because, you know, blue’s kind of your thing,” Kit rambled, looking expectantly onto the woman.

Of course. Laptops weren’t just for scrolling through page after page of Tumblr at 2am. They could also be used for productive activities too! Productive activities like writing. 

“So… Is it okay? We have the receipt if you’d rather switch it out for something else,” Aragon asked, seeing the look of contemplation on her goddaughter’s face. As soon as it was pointed out though, Parr snapped back to reality, a bright smile coming to her face.

These women - her family - cared so much about her.

“It’s wonderful! Really though, you don’t have to waste your money on me like this,” Parr protested, making the group all grin. She liked it. There was no way they were going to let the modest woman give up her new gift so easily. No, Catherine Parr deserved to be treated. They made that much clear whenever the situation was brought up the rest of that day.

Technology is a wonderful thing. At least, sometimes it is. When you can’t even figure out how to log in to your new laptop, though? Not so much.

Everything seemed like a chore. Usually, when struck with an idea, Parr would simply pick up her pen and begin to write. Here she was though, staring intently at her keyboard, trying her best to figure out how to use a colon. 

Technology is stupid. Difficult.

If she wasn’t struggling to find keys, she was fighting with autocorrect for telling her French words didn’t exist, or that the British spellings of words were incorrect and she obviously meant the American versions instead. At one point, the woman even accidentally turned her laptop to run in Japanese, leaving her utterly baffled.

For a little while, Parr coped. She didn’t mind hiding her struggles - no matter how frustrating - so long as the other queens were happy. That is until one day when she managed to accidentally delete a twelve thousand word document after eight hours of slaving away at the stupid keyboard.

Had she really not saved at some point over the past few hours? God, she was so stupid! 

No.

Parr wasn’t stupid; that damned laptop was.

After that incident, it was back to pen and paper. The laptop served as nothing more than an overpriced paperweight, cluttering up the small amount of her desk not filled with papers. At some point, she even gave it to Kit, telling the other queens that they deserved to use it, as they paid for it.

That generosity proved to bite her in the ass one evening when Jane Seymour called her to the living room, asking for help finding the ‘@‘ button to check her emails.

Immediately, Parr felt dread consume her. She couldn’t just admit that she didn’t know how to use her own keyboard. Not after almost six weeks of pretending to use the laptop for hours upon hours every single night.

What was she going to do? How could she possibly play this off?

Thankfully, before she had to, her saviour came in the form of one hyperactive gremlin known as Anne Boleyn.

“It’s this one here, Jane! See?” Anne explained, giving Parr a wink that the writer didn’t quite understand the meaning of. She was too busy thanking the gods to even register that Anne may have noticed her hesitation or the look of panic on her face. 

She had though.

Anne noticed it all.

The way Parr’s cheeks seemed to flush and her hands began to shake. The look of terror in her usually soft, chestnut eyes. The way her breathing seemed to stop completely as she registered the question, chest unmoving as she thought up an answer.

Moreover, she hadn’t failed to notice the familiar sound of a pen scribbling away for hours on end emanating from the woman’s study for the past few weeks. Alongside that, the lack of typing. She hadn’t heard typing at all since the first week of the woman receiving her gift.

Anne Boleyn wasn’t naive. Parr didn’t like her laptop or, at the very least, didn’t understand it and therefore was avoiding using it. The sweet, shy woman probably just felt too bad to admit it.

That wasn’t good enough. Parr deserved a gift she loved, not one she put up with. 

On a mission, Anne scoured every charity store and pawnshop she could find over the next few days. She even stalked eBay for hours on end, looking for the perfect gift. She knew exactly what she was looking for, now she just had to find it.

After what must have been at least forty shops and countless internet inquiries, Anne finally found exactly what she was looking for. Hopefully, Parr would love it as much as she expected her to. No, she would love it. Anne was certain.

The look of horror on Parr’s face when Anne entered her study holding a gift box made the younger woman chuckle.

“It’s not another laptop, don’t worry,” Anne teased, making Parr’s cheek flush bright red. Anne knew. She knew how ungrateful she had been. Oh gosh, was she going to be offended? She didn’t look offended.

“Earth to Cathy.” Came a voice, keeping Parr from spiraling. 

There Anne stood, still holding the box with a smirk on her face. That cheeky smile always did make Parr nervous. A good kind of nervous, but nervous all the same.

“You can tell them, you know? Nobody will be mad at you for not liking your laptop. I know they’re not for everyone,” Anne explained in a surprisingly compassionate tone, as she set the box down in the writer’s lap. “I was thinking. Before we progressed to laptops, writers liked these. Maybe you need something like this to ease you into all the fancy modern technology.”

Overwhelmed by curiosity, Parr hesitantly lifted the lid, lifting out the strange contraption, placing it on her desk. It looked kind of like a laptop keyboard, but there was no screen to go with it.

After a brief explanation from Anne, Parr found herself genuinely enthralled by the new device. Something so simple, yet so wonderful.

A typewriter.

It was perfect. The use of ink ribbons meant there was no risk of accidentally deleting her work. Instead of typing away endlessly at a laptop screen, she felt like she was actually creating something each time she reset the carriage return or replaced her paper. She liked the kinetic aspect of the machine.

Even more so than that though, Parr found comfort in the gentle clicking of the keys. She loved the feeling of the strange, metallic keys pressing down. It was far more satisfying than her laptop keyboard. 

Feeling enthusiasm rush through her, Parr leapt up, pulling an unexpecting Anne into her arms. 

“Thank you, Bo! This is amazing, oh my gosh! I love it,” Parr beamed, those perfect eyes gleaming brightly once again. She wasn’t faking it this time, Anne could tell. If the grin on her face didn’t convince her of that, the way the writer spun her around with a gleeful giggle certainly did.

She deserved that. The joy that brought such a bright smile to her face. Anne couldn’t help but blush as she realised she was the one who caused that adorable expression of delight.

To everyone’s surprise, it was Jane who inherited the laptop once Parr admitted that she didn’t truly need it. Actually, of course she did. What more could you expect from the mum of the group than a newfound FarmVille addiction?

From that day on, if Catherine Parr was awake, the sound of a typewriter could be heard. 

After all, Catherine Parr was a writer. She wrote books, and psalms, and meditations.

And poetry.

And music.

And… love letters?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, my loves!! 💚 I've had a few requests for Parrlyn fluff so here we go! I hope you liked it 🦆


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